Girl with Golden Eyes
by ills
Summary: This heaviest of transgressions was the secret tattooed on the meat of her soul, wrapped in the bleak threads of a bloody sinful karma. And, it is said that whoever should taste of this unholy meat would suffer. 1920's. Yakuza, Heroin and Jazz. U/M
1. Once upon the bayou

Disclaimer: Don't own Sailor Moon.

**Girl with Golden Eyes **

Part one: Once upon the bayou

Warning: Graphic violence, drug use, Yakuza, Blood and some nudity.

Timeline: Early twentieth century

Summary: There once was a boy who discovered a dead girl, unable to help himself he sank his teeth into her rot, truly curious as to what Death tasted like.

Genre: Drama/Romance

Vocabulary:

Homme: French: Man.

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Louisiana 

In the distance, closing with the setting sun a voice cried out, singing, chanting to the very heavens themselves. Creole pumped through her steady veins caused her to understand the cries fluidly, tears gathering in her blue eyes. Rocking gently back and forth on the aged wooden balcony her orbs carefully viewed the caliginous bayou, finding once and a while a pair of shiny, hungry eyes floating by.

"He ain't comin' child," Babet, the young girl's mother, a courtesan dressed in ragged, aged Victoria lace called out from the open door. Shaking her head in disapproval she couldn't help but sigh, her fine blonde hair swaying with the movement. "Angelique, yo' shoul' be learnin' to keep dos shapely legs of yours tied shut instead of runnin' off wit' fancy men. Den yo' wouldn' be raisin' no bastard."

Unconsciously Angelique drew the nursing newborn closer to her chest, his brilliant blue eyes staring up at her in pure, uninhibited wonder. Literally shaking her shoulders the young girl tried to dispel her mother's stinging voodoo words. "Off wit yo'," Angelique's coarse tobacco voice chimed, jerking her head her blonde ringlets bouncing with the effort.

"Hush," Babet crossed herself thrice. "Bad spirits dat homme ah be tell yo'," She spat out over her shoulder upon reentering their aged, rotting home.

Babet Leblanc may have been considered a lot of different vulgar words over the years, particularly in the presences of her daughter, but _wrong _was never one of them. Her golden child, Angelique was beauty incarnate, a stupid, loose kind of beauty with no values to speak of.

Raised on these cobblestone streets laced with liqueur and the steady heartbeat of potent jazz, Angelique found her place in world. To be charming but going without being bewitched by the heady smell of spices on a man's collar, that is until she allowed her path to cross with Naoki Chiba.

A Japanese businessman dressed in western garb, a rare sight indeed. With chartreuse enhanced orbs she crossed the noisy room, her slim digits playing with her corset. "'ello," Angelique purred, edging closer inhaling the scent of alters.

Smirking Naoki twisted his torso towards her. "Bold of you coming over, uninvited," His silvery tongue serving to hit every syllable with perfecting trained ease.

Her trimmed eyebrows rose slightly, "But, ah did receive an invitation." Angelique insisted, touching his temples softly. "Yo' eyes did the invitin', sugar. Dey be tell'in me how much yo' desire-" Allowing her liquor flavored words to trail off she watched with an air of superiority as his lips curved into a smile.

"Are they so foretelling?"

"Only t' dos," Angelique leaned forward giving him a brief flash of her ample breasts before kissing the tip of his nose. "Who kno' how to read dem."

Their brief affair lasted eight long nights, this being the most extensive relationship Angelique could boast of, starting with confessions tasting of King's cake and ending with hedonistic twisted expressions. Each morning she'd slink back to her moss covered home with more paper in her pockets then she could ever hope to spend.

Ever since her fifteenth year Angelique had been taught that a man's true character would snake out of him upon telling him that you were carrying his child. Appraising her with sharp, calculating eyes Naoki had simply nodded once, allowing his bank roll to replace his voice box.

Gloating, uninhibited, swelling joy had fed Angelique keeping her utterly amused until her body began to stretch and her own joy seemed caging. The tears cascaded down the sharp plains of her heart shaped face were not for the pain of child-bearing per say but for sheer vanity. This child of hers, the innocent monster had ruined her indefinitely. Contempt laced her tried sea colored orbs as they followed the water line, ears straining for the guttural sounds of an engine.

With numb, swollen, mosquito bitten skin her reward came in the form of a boat's engine drawing ever closer, exactly one hour after her mother had retired. Straining her eyes, trying to see through the murk Angelique stood. A moment of pleasure filled her completely upon spotting Naoki perched on the edge of a river boat.

Pleasure twisted with a tickling pain before darkness consumed her vision; faintly she was aware of the piercing sounds of a newborn's wailing.

She felt her unnamed child being lifted, taken from her weak, helpless arms right before her hemorrhaging body fell limp to the ground. Angelique jerked, the katana's lethal blade being yanked from her ribcage.

Fighting the darkness, dull eyes caught sight of Babet rushing out the front door armed simply with an old broom. Angelique tried to form a crying warning but her lips had already ceased heading her commands. Pain simply engulfed her senses; the curvaceous blonde shut her eyes tightly, trying desperately to drown out the wet sounds of Babet's entrails made when they splattered against the porch.

"Get his whore out of my sight," Naoki spat out the words to his three subordinates upon stepping onto dry land. Nodding carefully, Aki- a tall, overly tattooed man stepped forward, nudging Angelique with the bottom of his shoe. "Hm," Critical eyes glanced over the screaming child as another held him at arm's length. "We shall have to excuse that woman's eyes," He said in reference to the boy's sea colored orbs. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth he continued to study the child, "Mamoru. Chiba Mamoru."

Unable to help himself Naoki glanced over his shoulder, viewing Angelique's body being rolled into the water, her burning, rage infused orbs locked onto his. He smirked, "What do my eyes reveal to you now?"

Floating on the water's surface Angelique watched helplessly as a pair of shinny, hungry eyes floated closer before its teeth lodged themselves into her side, rolling her into oblivion.

_Much later, in purgatory Death would reveal to her that Naoki Chiba was no simple man indeed, but rather the head of one of the most violent yakuza families in the Japanese underground's tainted history. _

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An: Ah, Mamoru's troubling beginnings.


	2. Chasing the Dragon

Disclaimer: There once was a girl, who didn't own Sailor Moon or Bayer and her name would be, ills.

Part Two: Chasing the Dragon

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_There once was a boy who met a dead girl, unable to help himself he sank his fangs into her rot, truly curious as to what Death tasted like._

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Japan

_16 years later_

He was a boy who knew nothing of want, but rather of the trouble-free notion of taking the things he craved. The complex woven quilt constructed of his life's string was colorfully intertwined with the bleak strings of money, women and power to create his picturesque memorial.

Money, money was a simple matter, easily obtained, tainted. The texture of it as it rubbed against his smooth fingers served to produce Goosebumps along side his forearms, its weight inside of his pockets made him feel utterly complete.

Women were strange, fickle creatures to which this young boy had learned to silence or to persuade with the trappings of the primary mentioned object, to do anything his little black heart desired.

And power, well, _that_ is what left him in the dark trembling in his fluffy bed, parched for more.

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The exposed curve of her porcelain calf was the most magnificently sensual thing Chiba Mamoru had ever witnessed. Watching her sashaying across the massive, polished wooden stage sent ripples of pleasure down his body. Boyishly cut raven hair perfectly framed her rosy heart shaped face, which was seemly overshadowed by her Edwardian black net feather brim hat. Nervously gripping the microphone stand she inhaled before releasing a voice more smooth and tempting then velvet.

Snapping his fingers Mamoru jerked his head towards his subordinate, Kunzite. "Who is she?" He demanded, simply and completely memorized.

"I've been misinformed, sir. I do not-" Kunzite began but was thoroughly silenced when Mamoru lifted his gloved hand.

Smoothing out his vest Mamoru shook his head, "No matter, but I believe I'll handle this matter, personally." Clearing his throat the raven haired man glanced down at the kimono clad girl who was kneeling underneath their western style table. Waving dismissively towards the girl he glanced back up at the beauty that had enchanted every molecule in his being. "Your services are no longer required," He spoke rather coldly, buttoning himself back up.

"But," The girl began, wiping her plump lips with the edge of her sleeve. "You've yet to-" She allowed her words to trail off unable to say such a vulgar phrase in the presence of a gentleman.

"And," Mamoru locked his cold, sea colored orbs with her frightened ones. "Whose fault is _that_?" He challenged, nudging her not so gently with the rounded edge of his cane.

The girl swallowed, her thighs trembling. "Excuse me sir," She spoke towards the ground as she bowed deeply, her forehead touching the floor mat before she crawled from underneath the table.

Presenting him with a cold smirk Jadeite, the blonde haired man at his side fingered the sheath of his blade. "Would you like me to-"

"No," Mamoru answered reflexively, not consciously wishing the unnamed girl ill-will, his mind otherwise distracted. Briefly sea colored orbs caught azure in a their tight, unyielding web, holding her captive all seemed to be forgotten: The potent, strung jazz surrounding her seemed almost muffled, the patrons of the small club, disappeared and her own voice seemed to be lost in the tight atmosphere, completely choked.

Blinking rapidly, her eyes darted away from his, embarrassment coloring her soft features, heart spluttering upon realizing her mistake, deliberately she tried to rediscover the tempo and find her words.

Smirking to himself Mamoru cockily leaned back in his seat, his top hat falling forward slightly, obscuring his eyes in its shadow. Chuckling to himself Zoisite vainly played with the ends of his soft blonde hair, "I'm surprised that silly girl didn't fall right off the stage, sir." Leaning forward in his seat he reached over to cup his master's cheek. "You should play fair and dilute those ravenous eyes of yours," He spoke in a light tone, playfully smacking Mamoru on the cheek before leaning back in his seat once again.

"Hm, but this one," With his chin he gestured towards the stage. "I want to have quivering with insatiable need."

The boys joined Zoisite in his chuckles, raising their glasses in well wishes for their master's newfound conquest.

The liquid enchantment that was her voice continued to pleasingly tease Mamoru's eardrums for a full compliment of three more songs before the petite girl bowed, exiting the stage.

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth Mamoru squared his shoulders, "Gentlemen, let the hunt commence." He said, lust molding his irises into arrow points.

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She was a girl who knew every aspect of desire but she found herself lacking when pushed to achieve these fanciful wants.

And, curling in on herself she discovered herself weary.

She was tired, oh so very tired.

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A small glass bottle sat loftily on the wooden dresser, helplessly; almost innocently a red ribbon was laced to its neck a pristine tag connected. _Inject me_, it read in script scrawled by refined hand. Greedy, slick digits shrouded in translucent lace removed the cork relishing in the puckering sound it produced.

A wistful sigh escaped through parted, plump lips, her fingers rubbing against the aged label written in foreign lettering. _Friero Bayer and Co. Elberfeild. _**Herion**.

Gasping, what began as simple caged seed cracked, its vines shrouding her mind's eye in a web of suppressed reminiscence.

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_He smiled, and while the faux glow that swayed the hearts of countless damnable souls was eerily visible she sought no comfort in it venomous trappings. Already she could spy that the pull of his lips did not, could not touch his violet orbs, leaving the gesture cold, uninviting. _

"_Come," He gestured grandly with his hand, a veil of smoke clouding him as he breathed out twin streams out of his nostrils. _

_Rubbing her slick thighs together she glanced away, the rust bitten chain that was wrapped around her neck cut at her delicate skin with the movement. "I don't wish to," Swallowing she gritted her teeth together, "__**Sir**__."_

_Laughing once he smirked, his crooked finger beckoning her, "I didn't give you a choice, now did I?" He waited a tiny beat before exhaling, masking his annoyance in the scented poison. "Guess I'll just," Heaving a sigh he raised himself up from his seated position, "Have to come to you."_

_Lower lip quivering the young girl kept her eyes downcast, tears beginning to weal in the corner of his sapphire colored eyes. Touching her now she could feel liquid malice seeping through her very pores, guilt's vines intertwining skillfully with the secretion. Because, even though she disliked him thoroughly she couldn't ignore his perfumed breath as it touched her skin, the spun silk that was his hair, his lean body that embraced her; craving yet rejecting his touch. _

_Seeping through the aged cracks of the wooden planks, crawled the slick sounds of the nocturne; basking in its promise she felt his hands slip into her thick hair before her cheek was slammed painfully into the glass window, cracking its surface. _

_Innocents lost; sold in streets of the Baton Rouge she felt reminded of that fact when he put out his still-lit cigarette out on her exposed scapula. _

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The gasp that pierced the still air liquefied deep within her throat, stunned orbs dilating and with shaking hands she reached for the syringe. Injecting herself with the few remaining drops she felt the veil of reality slip, magic spell beginning to be weaved by cold ghost-like hands. Staring up at her own haunting image she brought her porcelain digits to smooth out the smeared mascara, realigning and brushing out her raven haired colored wig.

Heavy, pounding knocks went otherwise ignored as she rolled a franc and buried her nose into prearranged lines of white powder. "Hey! I know you can hear me!" A soundless voice cried from the other side of the door.

Feeling lethargic the young girl craned her neck back up slowly, moving her slick pinky to the plate pressing it to the last remains of the white powder before smoothing it onto her gums, relishing the instant numbing sensation it produced.

The heavy voice sighed and with a couple of noisy, jerky moved he was able to forcibly unlock the door. "Dear heavens, not again," The owner of the small club, Motoki cursed upon catching sight of the girl. Placing his palm over his face in exacerbation he watched her through his parted fingertips, red eyed, nosed lined with white. "What have I told you about brining _that_ here?!" He cried out, heaving an angry sigh, being further enraging when the girl refused to answer.

Pinching the bride of his nose Motoki shook his head, "Gather your things, I'll go fetch Asanuma." He spoke through clenched teeth, seeing her fall back onto a set of pillows as he whirled around, closing the door behind himself.

This was Tsukino Usagi.

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Death smiled, its crooked tobacco stained teeth glowing in the darkness. _So close_, he whispered almost gleefully through unmoving lips.

Passing through a mirror a woman appeared at his side, her rotting dress hanging off her bare skin in tatters; a mere shadow of her former self. "Iz dat her?" The woman questioned, pointing to Usagi with her chin, hands resting on her exaggerated waist line.

_Yes_, a voice passed through his hallow orifice sounded.

"Hm, Ah'd thoug't she'd be prettier," She scoffed her curls bouncing colored envious.

_Behave Angelique_, the voice commanded ruefully.

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"Just tell me where I can find _her_," Mamoru's smooth voice held an undercurrent of malice that hadn't had gone unnoticed by the small waiter he'd backed up against a wall.

"Tsukino-san?" The small boy trembled slightly, shaking his head. "I'm sorry sir but I'm afraid she's already retired," He said, fully conscious of the singer's habits. "I'm afraid it's impossible."

A throaty chuckle penetrated the noisy atmosphere and quite purposefully Mamoru drew his knee in-between the boy's lifting him up painfully. "Impossible you say," He grinned, and while the smile usually served to bewitch those in its utter brilliance now it only served to frighten the small boy to the point of urination. "Come, I'll tell you of some impossible things." He spoke in a light manner, forcibly drawing the boy into a vacant bathroom.

In the confines of that tiled room the small waiter discovered how deadly a small, sharpened pen could be. After fifteen minutes he was left, hemorrhaging, choking on scarlet having finally given Mamoru a precise and detailed map to Usagi's dressing room.

Smiling to himself as he exited the bathroom Mamoru whipped his hands on a small towel before chucking it at the boy's trembling figure, surprise coloring his features when he caught sight of a familiar figure turning a corner. "What waste," He clicked towards the boy before pursing his lovely girl.

Stalking her every footstep Mamoru followed her out into a pitch alleyway smiling to himself, watching as her marionette strings seemed to be cut causing her to tumble against the brick wall. Breathing heavily her watery eyes turned towards him, seemly seeing past him, iris completely unfocused.

He smirked; there was nothing more exquisitely beautiful then a tainted, shattered heart ripe for the taking.

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An: Don't worry Mamoru isn't going to do anything bad to Usagi in the next chapter. Here's the thing, with the kind of father that I have produced for him in this mini-story, _this_ 'Mamoru' is going to be pretty freakin' violent but gentle with Usagi as always. And yes, Death is stalking Usagi as well, because frankly with her lifestyle she's pretty much sitting at his door anyways.

And yes, I know that francs aren't the currency in Japan and yes, more on that later.

And, I love you for reviewing!

I'm super excited; yesterday I received in the mail my two different types of cherry blossom trees and hydrangeas! And the trees are huge! Though, the only bad thing was I bought this cute pot that looks like a big tea cup but they are all too big to fit in it, I have to wait till my small globe thistle comes in next month. –Sad face-

Oh yea, keep me in your prayers, if this antibiotic doesn't work in seven days, the doctor is going to have to cut me open, which isn't good as I am deadly afraid of needles and not of fan of getting a knife put inside moi.

**Next Chapter: Heart for Sale**


	3. Heart for Sale

Disclaimer: You know I checked all my pockets and indeed they came up short, in other words I still don't own Sailor Moon.

Part Three: Heart for Sale

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From the moment that breath first enters the lungs we understand that Death is a being more powerful then one's imagination can span. Whose silver tongue cannot be out lashed nor can he be overpowered by one's futile strength. Humans spend their lives speaking of whispers carried on warm scented winds of the promise of eternal life but simply do not possesses the fortitude to reach out and yank it from _his_ rotting hands.

He is simply, an unconquerable immortal.

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It crept, slowly crawling from a puddle of slimy dampened earth shrouded in the ruffled feathers of a crow. Trembling, liquid orbs flashed causing the feather's tips to be set aglow. Magenta colored his skin before his epidermis convulsed; the feathers embedded themselves into his flesh as his form shifted.

Mouth watering, poised to spring Death watched the young girl below with calculating eyes. Desire rippled, coursing through his decaying, collapsed, blackened veins. Death clucked, hopping ever closer on the edge of the rooftop.

Already she was spinning, tripping over her own feet down an imaginary grassy maze without ending or hopes of escape as she was completely blind. Her still beating heart was a vine choked, aged mausoleum to which was locked away from prying grazes.

_Just a little more_, his soul's voice called out soundlessly towards the figure below. Observing a human plummeting from grace spoke to him more than any refined piece of art, and dearly how he loved it so.

_Splendid, isn't it? _He called to the form, which was simply a mere shadow at his side.

"_**Indeed**_," Angelique's coarse tobacco laced voice shivered.

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Quite deliberately, in tune with her heaving bosom, he stroked the silver jewel encrusted skull which sat atop of his prestigious cane. Eyes wild, face damped with sweat she stared, seeing past the ebony haired man standing at the doorway rather seeing her veil of reality beginning to twist.

Smirking to himself Mamoru couldn't help but take a step towards the girl, "Hello." His velvet tongue purred, but the sultry hum was met with no response, just labored breathes. Irritation clouded his vision; closing the distance between them Mamoru roughly snapped his gloved digits in front of her nose.

Blinking rapidly Usagi shook her head feeling herself being thrown back into the arctic waters of reality. Shivering, teeth clattering against one another almost violently she turned, actually seeing the beautiful man before her for the first time, a strange expression crossing her features.

"Ah, you've returned to me," Mamoru whispered, his digits tracing little nonsensical designs across her exposed collarbone. "Tell me little one-"

Being faintly aware that he was indeed questioning her on something in particular she lost his voice in the thick dark vapors of the night air, his speech patters completely blurring. All Usagi could concentrate on the fact that _it_ wasn't enough, the bruised, open flesh in-between her toes throbbed in time with her steady pulse. Already she could feel herself being chained to this road, vile recollections weaving themselves into her mind's eye.

_A man of particular power, search_ – A soundless ghost of a voice, one which she'd been in particularly trying to suppress rose up on her deaf ears.

_Snap_, the noise of his fingers made startled the young girl slightly. "**Pay**. _Attention_," Mamoru demanded, his tone telling of his volume of displeasure.

"Are you a man who has power?" Usagi's disjointed voice questioned, locking her eyes with his Adam's apple.

A chuckle vibrated deep within his esophagus, "Yes." He smirked, "I'm indeed a man who pulls on the strings of others."

"Then," Usagi's tiny hands gripped the fabric of his pants, pulling his toned pelvis towards her own. "Do you have money?"

Chuckling once again, amusement practically radiating from his sea colored orbs he nodded swiftly. "My dear, I have more money then you could ever hope to spend in a lifetime."

Sighing, Usagi's pink tongue darted to lick her bottom lip while her trembling hands left his hips and moved to the fabric of her dress, leaning away Mamoru watched as she tried to lift the material of dress. Offering her assistance he lifted his cane, drawing up the edge of her dress as the cold cane ran alongside of her exposed thigh. "Buy me," She breathed out musically.

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The crow bounced with undisrupted glee, yes, _yes_, **yes**!

_Yes, give her money._

_She just needs a little more._

A little more and he'd finally be able to touch her, claim her body for himself.

At his side Angelique frowned in displeasure, "If she dies-"

_**Shut**__ up_, the shrilling, hallow voice commanded.

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Breaths intermingling Mamoru lowered his mouth towards her own, pausing before they could touch as he wrapped her shaky thigh around his hip, pressing into her warmth. Smirking he leaned forward to place a single kiss at the corner of her frowning lips, his fingers running through her raven colored hair, the movement being enough to disturb the wig.

Eyes wide, he could only watch motionless when it plunged towards the ground, his reality completely tilting.

"My god," He whispered, jumping away from her slightly.

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An: Excuse the shortness of this chapter, sorry.


	4. Moss coated Mirrors

Disclaimer: Yeah, you wish. Still don't own Sailor Moon.

Part Four: Moss coated Mirrors

Vocabulary:

Oni: Demon

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Once in a great while one realizes that desires, as ill-fated as they might be have the utmost potential to ruin lives; its better to discover patience before that life slips from in-between your fingertips.

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Wig disheveled, it cascaded towards the wet, mud choked cobblestone street, carried by the strings of an unfavorable wind. The movement had gone unnoticed by the small girl, a veil of chilly fantasy blanketing her when Mamoru jumped back slightly, shock perfectly drawing his character.

Unconsciously Mamoru allowed the steady grip he'd held on his cane falter, allowing it too to fall towards the ground, the clatter going unnoticed as he brought his gloved digits to his lips. Faintly, with the gesture, he caught a whiff of coarse copper, serving to remind him of the trembling boy he'd left on the tiled ground only moments ago.

Allowing this image to float down the shallow sea of remembrance his soul's majestic eye stood focused on a small, paint covered canvass that Aki, one of his father's many subordinates had presented him with on the seventh year of birth.

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_Stoically the young raven haired boy stood in the middle of an ornately designed yin-yang in the center of the room, painted water dragons circling his small feet. With a humble bow Aki uncovered the canvas, twirling and whirling the blanket which had covered the present with a talented, fine hand. _

_Orbs indifferent Mamoru tilted his head slightly to the side, his long raven colored hair obscuring his right eye. "What is it?" The young boy questioned with a slight tone of distaste, his orbs never leaving the sapphire ones that stared back at him with what he thought was a hint of malice. _

_Naoki choked out a small laugh, exhaling smoke rings at his son's legs. "Aki," He spoke, shifting the mouthpiece to the corner of his smile, his slim digits fingering the hose. "Has a talent for painting the dead." He finished with a proud smirk, exhaling the perfumed poison from his nostrils. _

"_May I," Aki bowed towards Naoki with the request and nodded in approval Naoki took another puff from his hookah. "This," Aki began, gesturing softly to the painting, "Was your mother." _

_A firm ghost's hand reached deep within Mamoru's chest, squeezing his heart so feverishly that it caused it to splutter. "M-my," He began but found that he couldn't form the words. _

_At his perch Naoki's brow creased in disapproval, "I know I've raised a finer man than that." He snapped, liquid irritation lining his smooth tongue, his eye locked on the seven year old. _

_Squaring his shoulders Mamoru stood taller, automatically Naoki nodded in approval, biting down on the mouthpiece. "My mother, how did she die?" The young boy asked his face devoid of all emotion. _

_A small smile that was neither kind nor fierce spread Aki's lips, "You in a sense sealed her fate," The young boy's stormy eyes clouded over. "Hours after you were born I impaled her in the abdomen with the lusty tip of my steel," Opening up his western style jacket he displayed the very katana Mamoru had seen a hundred fold since he could remember. "Before rolling her into the river where a floating oni sank his teeth into her worthless flesh, thus ending her putrid existence." _

_A tiny immeasurable twitch gave Mamoru away completely in the critical eyes of his father, "Aki, burn it." Naoki commanded, his hard dragon orbs locking with his son's own shocked oceans. _

"_Fa-" The child began before being cut off by his father. _

"_That woman that bore you was an infection, a parasite that latched onto others and ate their very flesh off the bone. A virtual junkie whore running wild in the streets," Straightening out of his formal sitting position Naoki crossed the room in a few quick strides, taking Mamoru's jaw in-between his coarse fingers. "I wouldn't allow her to infect your royal blood son with her poison; she would have ruined you without doubt." Letting go of his jaw Naoki took a step back, his orbs losing a touch of their sharp bite. "Besides, she wasn't born of the same Mother we were, nursed by the milk of this great land." _

_Naoki continued to speak of patriot fueled logic but Mamoru had already closed his ears to such nonsense, watching Aki unemotionally tearing apart the canvas he'd worked so hard on. And, as with all children as memories fade when youth is forgotten this memory clung to him, forever engraved in the heart of his soul's eye. _

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The duo set of syllables slipped past his lips without Mamoru's consent, "Mother." He whispered, moving to cradle her neck.

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A pair of invisible, forceful hands tore open the skies in two impaling the ground in emerald colored flames, encircling the blonde haired girl. "Wat. Did. He. J'st. Say?" Angelique questioned violently, her irises set ablaze.

The crow at her side picked at a piece of her dress indifferently, swallowing the flames. _The child isn't dense he knows it isn't you, but you have to admit, the resemblance is there_, he coughed out a laugh. _Everyone is replaceable. _

"But, why her?" Angelique angrily stomp her tiny foot, exhaling smoke and charred flesh when she spoke.

_Don't worry, she'll soon be_, Death began, his eyes showing his uninhibited delight.

"No!" Angelique grabbed the crow by his wings. "Ah need her still," She cried, the small bird struggling in her grip. Without warning the small bird's body convulsed, glowing magenta another head sprung up out of his backside and bit down violently at the tip of her nose, swallowing the flesh.

The scream that expelled from Angelique's esophagus shook the very air surrounding them, serving to extinguish the flames that ate at her rot.

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A small insignificant rustle caused all of the muscles in Mamoru's backside to stiffen and instinctively he palmed the hilt of his katana, which was hidden underneath his coat. Whirling around, poised to strike Mamoru instantly relaxed upon seeing the faces of his brothers, the Shitennou.

"When you spoke of going hunting I didn't think you would need to use such tricks," Zoisite spoke in a mocking tone. "Or were your eyes just too powerful?"

Jadeite scrunched up his nose in plain disgust, "Such a horrible woman, dispose of her quickly master before you catch something equally offensive."

Unable to help himself Mamoru gritted his teeth, pinning the wobbly, nearly unconscious girl to his side. "Nephrite, go get the car," Mamoru commanded, and bowing respectfully in return Nephrite did what he was asked, slipping out of the mouth of the alleyway.

Starting to roll up his sleeves Jadeite took a step forward, "I'll dispose of the-"

"-_You_ will **not** touch her," Mamoru hissed shocking the young blond thoroughly. "She's-"

In that moment invisible shards of glass coated Usagi's stomach and inhaling a sharp breath she felt her insides convulse at the repulsive pain, yellow blood coated bile being propelled onto Mamoru's suit.

The warning that Mamoru meant to issue died a very quick death deep within his voice box.

"Disgusting," Zoisite snarled, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

Glaring at the curly haired blond Mamoru locked his eyes with his own while he wiped the sick from Usagi's plump lips. "Since you're the first to speak, see to it that this young lady makes it _safely _to the car." He commanded sternly and while Zoisite's very aura appeared as though he wished to protest he dared not verbalize this.

Crossing the narrow alleyway Zoisite reached down and carefully slung the barely coconscious girl over his shoulder, following Nephrite's earlier movements.

"Sir, a word," Jadeite spoke, displeasure coating his fowl tongue.

Pulling off his jacket Mamoru barked, "Speak."

"This is a mistake lord; you should only show this kindness to your bride, your brothers - not some common whore you wish to bed." Jadeite fumed, his muscles stiffening when the usual calm seas that were his master's eyes morphed into ones of a serpent.

Tossing his sick coated tie at the boy Mamoru smirked, "Well, then I'll make sure to invite you to the wedding." Jadeite bit his inner cheek, keeping his defiant tongue still. "Strip," Mamoru commanded.

"What?" The young boy questioned, eyes widening.

"You," Mamoru tilted his head slightly, unbuttoning his pants. "Don't expect me to walk around covered in bile, do you?"

Shaking his head Jadeite began to undress, "No sir." Once the blonde haired boy had handed over his pristine scraps of clothing leaving him bare with only his sword still in his possession Mamoru leaned forward, capturing his chin in-between his fingers.

"For your defiance, walk home showing the brothers you speak so highly of the tender flesh you were born in," Mamoru laughed quite cruelly at the expression that the young blonde presented him with. Still, not daring to speak a harsh syllable now the boy simply followed his master's orders. "Oh," Mamoru spoke again once the boy had reached the mouth of the alleyway. "Leave your weapon."

Hearing the Japanese steel clatter against the ground Mamoru began to redress himself in Jadeite former attire. Kunzite, who'd been silently observing the scene unfolding before him took a step closer to his master. "Is this wise, sir?"

"_You too_?" Mamoru's eyebrow twitched. "When did all of you grow the fortitude to dream it wise to question my decisions?" He asked, lifting up the trousers.

Lowering his head respectfully Kunzite appeared quite nervous for the briefest of moments. "It's just," He swallowed, "Have you thought of what your father would say?"

Swallowing his sighs Mamoru looked towards the ground, "He won't have to know." He decided, "I'll have her out of the house before he comes back from Shanghai."

Clicking his tongue up against the roof of his mouth Kunzite narrowed his eyes at the young boy. "Dangerous," He spat. "What is it that you hope to accomplish with that young girl?"

Mamoru smiled, "I want to save her life."

Both boys jumped, completely startled when a crow's defiant shriek pierced the still night's air.

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	5. Hymn of Tragedy

Disclaimer: Damn, you know for a second there, I thought that I had it but nope… still don't own Sailor Moon. Woe the tragedy and speaking of tragedy.

Part Four: Hymn of Tragedy

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Monstrous beings from creation are sewn together by malice life strings for the sole purpose of fabricating monstrous events dipped and burned in the embers of calamity.

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France

6 years prior

In the land of the Notre Dame she wept, her cries reverberating off ornate walls splashed with touches of profound sophistication. Small, dimply hands caked in coppery scarlet tried futilely to shake the motionless woman she'd once called Okasan, awake.

This woman had taught her pretty words in the tongues of her ancestors, the land of the rising sun while lazily showing her pronunciations in the language of her biological father. Still, in this twilight's hour her cries knew of no language, the figurative tower of babble cracking before crumbling to a heap of rubble. All she was acquainted with was pain, this raw emotion twisting itself up her esophagus before forcing its way through her parted lips.

Exhaling furry in a perfect blend of both of her native tongues a man, covered in blunt ink entered their home, towing a horde of faceless men. Forewarned of their intrusion the lady of the household had gathered her sleepy faced blonde haired child in her arms, seeking sanctuary inside a closet. Through the shutters the pair could clearly see that with blunt, chiseled instruments they sculpted the loyal members of the household into jigsaw pieces, all the while requesting the same lines of splashed syllables.

The door quivered after a sour bile coated digit had been raised against them, a choir of screams filtering through the air as the betrayer exhaled his last breath. "Usa," The angel faced woman had cooed, stiffening when the lock was broken. "Don't look," She ordered, pushing her daughter's face deep into her embrace.

There was a moment when their claw-like fingers yanked the woman that she loved so eternally away that the spun web of reality shook, seeming almost surreal. In that moment she know not of her own name nor was she aware of the passage of the ghastly river of time; knowing only the spell of darkness. In a burst incomprehensible shapes began to form, followed by splashes of color, first green, and then blue and before she knew her vision was washed in scarlet.

"O-oka-" The blonde haired child began, her thick voice unable to produce the syllables she desired. Stumbling forward her tiny arm was caught by- what she thought- a faceless troll of might.

"Leave her be," A stern voice called out, the nameless ringleader spoke while cleaning the edge of his blade with a small white handkerchief. "She's just a child," He reminded his subordinate.

Begrudgingly he let released the tiny girl, his forceful hand leaving a ghastly white indentation of his fingers on her creamy arm as a soft reminder. Small, deliberate steps carried her forward until she sat gasping at her mother's side.

"Child," Despite her natural appearance, that which being of her blonde hair and blue orbs, the stranger kneeled next to her enunciating in perfectly polished Japanese. Taking a deep breath he repeated the same tired syllables they'd cut into the helpless flesh of those scattered all around the room. "Where is the master of this household?"

The young blonde stiffened, opening her mouth liquid shock seized her, for before she could even flap her tongue to shape her letters a familiar voice called out from the passageway. _His_ voice. "I'm here," Corbin Lune, the master of this house called in a flat monotone voice, stepping inside the room before bringing a cigarette to his lips.

"Ah," Corbin moved the cigarette to the corner of his mouth when he spoke. "Quite a mess, wouldn't you agree?" His orbs scanned the room with a flare of distaste. "Tell your boss that I'll be sure to send him a cleaning bill." Articulating coldly, his severe bloodshot orbs never once landed on those of his daughters before he locked them with the man's at her side. "Chiba, wasn't it," Placing his hands nonchalantly in his pockets he glanced at the ceiling.

"You know, I've heard from a very reliable source that Japanese food, unlike Chinese or even Thai can be awfully upsetting to the bowels. So, please do extend my sincerest apologizes but I'm afraid that you'll have to inform Mr. Chiba – ah, oh, excuse me," Corbin coughed. "Chiba-chan, is that the way you people say it?" He sneered and one of the men stepped forward, his katana raised in front of him but did not dare any further action without his commanders consent. "Hm, tell him that I will not be able to except his invitation."

The nameless horde growled in unison at his obvious insults, but the ringmaster ceased their protests with a firm _snap_ of his digits. "Apologizes good sir, but there seems to be a miscommunication. We weren't sent here on a _friendly _gathering of invitation-" He allowed the words to hand in the tense atmosphere.

"Oh?" Corbin replied, removing the cigarette from his mouth. "Then why have you caused a disturbance in my household?"

"We've come on a goodwill mission of acquisition, namely," The ringleader's orbs turned to steel, his mouth curving sinfully at its sides. "You're fucking head."

For the briefest of moments Corbin's tiny heart faltered, vision tilting before he swallowed back the annoying emotion of fear. "Hm, quite a predicament, wouldn't you agree? Now how about we speak among leaders of men, brothers one might say, of personal compensation to forget-"

Corbin's tongue ceased its idle flapping as the ink covered gangster raised his katana to his daughter's creamy throat. "How do you say fuc-" The man paused when a small laugh escaped past Corbin's lips.

"You're not trying to threaten me with the half-breed are you," Musical mirth danced in his ocean colored orbs. "If you don't do it now, then I will have to dirty my hands with the matter later." He shrugged carelessly, "With her mother gone there really is no need for-"

_Her_, The little girl, who was frankly too innocent a being to be flung into the malicious world of adults knew that the man she once known as père continued speaking she found herself deaf to it. Inky darkness shrouded the poor girl's vision and before she could push it away it began to fill with images of her beloved Okasan; lovely images, perfect in there entirety before being eclipse with the battered vision that lay before her.

Usagi de Lune's vision clouded in scarlet.

Hands twitching, sweet adrenaline being dumped into her open veins she cocked her head to the left, memories whispering of sights she'd seen of what men kept hidden underneath their coats. Without warning she slammed her petite body into the man's at her side, the gesture surprised the man and as he stood frozen she reached up on her toes, yanking his pistol from his holder. "That's-" The man paused, watching in somewhat disbelief while the young girl pointed the gun at her father. "Not a toy."

"That's good," Usagi licked her lips. "Because I stopped having a need from childish things a while back," She replied, malice drawing her character lines.

The man chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders he leaned down guiding her shaking arms. "Aim a little higher doll, at that level you would not kill him," Amusement twirled its fanciful jig in the tenor of his voice as he pressed the girl closer to him.

"Usagi," Corbin began, "Listen to your father-"

"-Okasan is awaiting your apology," Her low voice commanded.

Corbin's eye twitched, "Excuse me?"

"Apologize for the _crimes_ **you've** committed against her," Usagi's steel orbs, which mirrored his own, locked onto his – leaving no room for negotiations.

"Fine," Corbin laughed, mockingly. "_Okasan_," He sneered, "I'm sorry for all the wrongs this poor wrench of a man has done against you."

It was the young girl's turn to laugh, "She doesn't forgive you." Lowering the weapon she shot at her father's knee, watching in mocking delight as she fell to the ground, screaming, clutching at the wound. "Want to try dying? It might be a fun experience for you," She spoke coldly, aiming at his temple.

"_Usa_-**gi**," The bullet penetrated his skull, blood spurting before he fell to the ground among the bodies which he so carelessly dismissed, twitching one last time before Death came for him.

A sinful karma wrapped around the young girl and she knew without a doubt that this most heavy of transgression would always be her burden to bear. A secret tattooed on the meat of her soul and whoever ate of that most tainted mean would suffer, just as she had been born to suffer.

"Don't hurt her anymore, keep her beautiful," Usagi requested of the man before she handed over the pistol.

Keeping his arm around her, he reached over and took the pistol from her outstretched hand before kissing his plump dimpled cheek, "She'll make a wonderful painting." Whispering the sweet lullaby in her ear he tilted his head to the side, "Would you like some salt water taffy?"

Usagi stared at him peculiarly, shaking her head. "No thank you."

"Pity, I so desired you to have one last good memory, alas-" He broke off allowing for his voice to trail off before he, without warning covered her small mouth with a handkerchief. Eyes wide the girl gasped but otherwise did not struggle as she breathed from the wet cloth, it wasn't long before he eyes rolled and she fell, limp.

"Aki, should I?" A man motioned towards the girl.

Cradling the sleeping girl to his chest Aki slowly shook his head, "She fulfilled the contract herself and might I add performed admirably as tonight's entertainment." The cruelty of his grin knew of no boundaries, "I believe she's earned a reward." He paused, "Give her to the Dead-Moon family; I hear their oldest son is in need of a new pet."

The man frowned, "Tragic, she could have been such a beauty, don't suppose she'll live past the year in his capable hands."

"Indeed, burn the bodies," Aki commanded.

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Death's head twisted to the side, ankle deep within the massacre's filthily remains.

_So delicious_, he breathed.

"How-w-w did I get here?" Corbin stuttered, staring up at the cloaked man. Gritting his teeth he stared murderously at his sleeping daughter. "Take her too!" He commanded of Death.

_Don't worry, I'll come for her, soon_.

Liquid foamed in his sockets shaping, hardening in what could pass as orbs, they stared promising anguish before his skeleton hand reach over to tap Corbin on the shoulder.

Fire breathed before swallowing, and Corbin was no more.

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In the land known as Baton Rouge she lost her identity.

"How very pretty," He whispered in her ear, passing a rusty razor blade across her hairline. "And _mine_."

She sobbed silently.

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Japan

With a shrill scream of pure uninhibited fright Usagi shot up in bed, sweating profusely. "Shh! Its ok" A masculine voice that she didn't recognize spoke at her side, instantly she drew away from him on the bed, eyes wild. "Oh, my lady how you wound me, does my face disappoint?"

Absently she shook her head, staring at the raven haired man with some incredulity. "Where's Asanuma?"

Mamoru clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth; "Young lady, I stand before you." He began unbuttoning his black formal jacket while he spoke, leaning back in his chair. "And here you are dreaming of other men." Laughing without humor he cupped his chin, "Though as I recall you did speak of your mother a lot in your dreams. Are you without her, perhaps?"

Without her consent a tiny sob broke through her lips, she shook her head, tightening her tiny fist, willing herself not to fall into the depths of _that _emotion. "I need Asanuma, do you know where he is – h-he has-s my medicine." She shook; her vision twisted her surroundings before she plummeted back into the world of dreamers.

Leaning over the bed Mamoru sighed, brushing her locks away from her damp cheek. "Ami," He called towards the small blue haired maid that stood readily at the door, without turning away from Usagi. "Fetch me a doctor."

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An: So sorry! I know its been months since I last updated but a couple months back I got surgery done twice on my leg then my work load at work increased and instead of having four accounts it grew to nine (while plenty of others have merely one account, mind you. Yes, I know i'm bitter.) Anyways, I was pretty much exhausted from that, but my boss just got demoted (yes!) and my new boss is pretty understanding and already is proving to be a better fit (and she even gave one of my accts to a co-worker). So, I should be around more lately. Again, sorry to keep you guys waiting!

And yes, we are going to delve more into Usagi's past in the next chapter.

FF dot net is being dumb and not letting me go to the reviews page but some had asked if the title is in reference to the Sixx:AM song and yes it is. I'm a huge Nikki Sixx fan (even have his bass tattooed on my side) and I actually came up with this story while listening to Girl with Golden Eyes, hence why I named it after the song.

And I know someone asked if it will end like the song.. no, this story might have been inspired by the song but Usagi's heroin addiction will not be the major arc, as you've tasted in this chapter I have something much bigger in the works.


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